


The Kindergarten Kid

by FunnyFany



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Character Study, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Experimental Style, Gen, Light Angst, Loneliness, POV Second Person, Post-Gem War, Pre-Canon, coming to exist in complete isolation must be a really sucky experience, i love amethyst so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 02:40:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18379259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunnyFany/pseuds/FunnyFany
Summary: Spending your formative years completely alone in a dark and hollowed out canyon is not nearly as thrilling as it sounds.





	The Kindergarten Kid

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm new to posting fanfics. This is the first work I've properly finished, and it's been posted to FF.net a while ago but I didn't get around to uploading it here until now.
> 
> Welp, better late than never, I suppose.

You are.

You don’t know who you are, or what you are, or how you came to be, or why you weren’t before, but now you are.

Right now, you are.

You are somewhere. You don’t know what this place is, or where this place is, or why you are here now or where you were before. If you were before.

This place is, just like you are.

Has it been for longer than you? You don’t know. You think so.

You think.

You don’t know what you think, or how you think, but you do. You don’t know enough to understand it.

Understand?

You look around. It’s dark and silent and full of... things. You don’t know what those things are, only that they’re shiny and pointy and look somewhat jarring in the grey of the scenery around you. As if they were from… someplace else. You don’t know where.

You don’t know many things.

You shake your head. You should know more things. You don’t know why, you just feel like something’s missing.

You feel.

You feel, and this is important. You know it is. It’s one of the few things you know. You also know that, where you are, there are a bunch of other things. They’re different from the shiny, pointy ones: they’re rounded, dusty and solid just like this place. You think they’ve been here for longer than you have, and maybe even longer than the pointy things have. You like these things.

You like. You think. You feel. You know and you don’t know. Those are things you can do.

You reach out to touch one of them. Then pull back. Looking down at yourself, you just now realize you look nothing like them. You also look nothing like the pointy things. You’re shifting and not static, complex and not rounded or pointy; you’re very distinctively unique in a way not even the pointy things are - they are odd, but many. You’re not like them at all. You’re different. You move, and think, and feel, and know things and don’t know things, and like things and don’t like things. Can anything around you do the same things as you do?

Is there anything else like you? Or are you the only one?

You think and this makes you feel bad. You don’t understand this feeling, but you really want to be like someone.

You want.

You want to know. You want to find someone who is like you. You want that someone to exist. And you know that someone does exist, because if they don’t, then… what?

You like being, but you don’t like being by yourself.

Your eyes sting and you growl in frustration. You have been walking for a while now, and it makes you tired and angry. You don’t like feeling this way. You want this to stop. You try to make it stop, but fail. Why won’t you stop feeling bad? You don’t want this! You want to feel good! You want to-- !

You blink. You broke the thing. You hit it with your hand and it made a loud noise and split apart. Your hand stings, and you like that feeling. You feel better now. Not by much, just enough that it doesn’t bother you anymore.

You climb another one of those things, one that was right next to the broken one. You sit on top of it, contemplating what you just did. You changed the way the thing was, from round and dusty and whole to broken. It’s now two things. You can do that too, change the way things are.

You can do many things. You count them in your head: you know and you don’t know; you move and you think and you feel and you destroy and you change. That’s a lot more than everything else does. You smile to yourself. What else can you do? And, perhaps most importantly, can anything else do as much as you can?

You hope.

**Author's Note:**

> Since this is my first published fic, I'd love to have some feedback, if possible! I'm open to constructive criticism. Keep in mind that this is an experimental fic and a lot of writing "guidelines" were intentionally broken for the sake of having the fic "feel" Kindergarten-y, so the point is whether or not I succeeded or if it was just boring. You can also find me on Tumblr under the same username, if you'd rather send an ask.
> 
> Also, I just realised the fic has exactly 666 words so that's a thing i guess
> 
> (P.S.: you could write a whole 'nother fic in the notes and for some reason this is hilarious to me)


End file.
